


[vore] Blackberry Snake

by wolfbunny



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Soft Vore, Vore, inaccurate magical snakes, not exactly coerced prey, not exactly unwilling prey, not exactly willing prey, safe vore, skeleton naga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfbunny/pseuds/wolfbunny
Summary: Blackberry lends out his brother to a snake.





	[vore] Blackberry Snake

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lack of Emotion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381767) by [idontevenknowugh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenknowugh/pseuds/idontevenknowugh). 



Papyrus froze when he saw the snake. It looked like Sans—if a little bigger—from the waist up. Below that was nothing but magic or ectoplasm, the exact same shade as Sans’s, forming a long, semitransparent tail. Its torso was resting on a short column so that it was about the same height as if it had had legs, with the rest dragging out behind it.  
  
Sans pulled on his leash and Papyrus stumbled forward, ashamed at being caught quite so off-guard. Sans dropped the leash into the snow in front of the snake and turned to head back to the portal. The snake watched silently, wearing a mild grin. Anyone less intimately familiar with Sans wouldn’t have been able to tell their faces apart. Even the scars and cracks were eerily similar. Papyrus wondered how the snake managed to live in such a cold place—it looked just like the forest near his own Snowdin. Perhaps it didn’t need heat, since it was made entirely of bones and magic. Perhaps it lived in Hotland and was just visiting.  
  
Papyrus knew the drill by now. He waited for the snake to pick up the leash. But it didn’t. “Okay, strip,” it ordered. Its voice was a nearly perfect imitation of Sans’s too.  
  
That wasn’t unexpected. Papyrus shrugged off his jacket, pulled off his shirt, threading the leash through the neck hole out of necessity, though he hated to handle it himself. The cold didn’t affect him much now, though he would feel it on his magic soon, he expected. He let his clothes fall in a pile on the snow, and the snake gave them a disapproving look.  
  
“You can keep the collar,” it said. “But take the leash off. I don’t want it hanging out of my mouth.”  
  
Papyrus reached for the clip, his phalanges trembling. It wasn’t his place to take the leash off. He shouldn’t be outside without it, anyway. He touched it, but couldn’t quite bring himself to unfix it.  
  
“Here, I’ll do it,” said the snake impatiently, moving toward him. Its tail pushed up ridges of snow as it slithered. Papyrus schooled himself not to back away from it. The snake unhooked the leash from his collar and dropped it on the pile of his clothes, then circled around, appraising him. Its tail herded him away from his clothes, coiling on top of itself, surrounding him in a tightening loop, until he ran out of space, and was forced to sit on top of the coils, which formed a sort of nest for him. The snake’s torso hovered over him, almost like Sans had become a sock puppet on a long purple arm. Papyrus wasn’t amused in the slightest by the image.  
  
“I think we’ll start from this end.” The snake sounded pleased as it settled onto its coils by Papyrus’s feet. It ran its tongue across Papyrus’s metatarsals, onto his tibia. Papyrus let himself shudder. Its tongue was just like Sans’s, except bigger. From its comment, perhaps its idea of foreplay was licking all the way up his body.  
  
But it didn’t keep licking up his tibiae, instead enveloping both his feet in its mouth. Papyrus lifted his skull to look closer at what it was doing. It grinned, sharp teeth resting against his tibiae. If Sans had given him to the snake for the night, it could do what it wanted; Papyrus was about to lean back in surrender, when it moved forward, pushing his feet deep into its mouth, its upper coils shifting slightly from the motion. Papyrus opened his mouth to protest, then closed it in silence. But he couldn’t look away, as the snake pushed forward again, its jaws opening wide enough that its teeth didn’t scrape against his legs, pulling him in now that its interior magic had a grip on him. It was still grinning, its purple eye lights meeting his. What was that it had said about the leash? Papyrus’s soul went cold.  
  
He didn’t try to keep the terror off of his face as the snake worked its way up past his knees and began to swallow his femurs, the circle of the coils Papyrus’s upper body leaned against tightening a little as its torso moved into the center. Sans wanted the snake to have its way with him, and if the snake was doing this, it must want to scare him. It was doing a good job, too. But surely that was all it was. It wasn’t really going to eat him. Sans wouldn’t want that—would he?  
  
The snake reached the ends of his femurs, its tongue touching his tail bone. Surely its mouth couldn’t stretch wider than this, enough to accommodate his pelvis. It would tease him a bit longer, then let him slide his legs back out, and they’d get on to the sex. And then Sans would come back for him. He gasped as it licked the inside of his tail bone. Then it opened its jaws wider and pulled in his pelvis. He grunted in surprise, trying to hold onto the slick magic of its coils. The snake’s teeth closed over his spine, parted just enough that his vertebrae didn’t clack against them as it drew his pelvis deeper in. Papyrus was concerned, now, whether he’d be able to get back out very easily.   
  
The snake’s skull clinked against his ribs, his floating ribs now resting on its soft tongue. Papyrus was breathing faster, alarmed at being more than half engulfed in the snake’s magic. But it was probably almost finished—his torso would be harder to negotiate than his pelvis—not worth the trouble. He lay back and stared impassively up at the treetops as the snake pressed its tongue against his ribs and spine. If Sans wanted him to endure this, he would. Whatever the outcome.  
  
He felt the snake’s teeth on the front of his rib cage—he was numbly surprised that it could open its mouth that wide after all. It worked its way up incrementally, teeth hooking onto his ribs, resting, then scraping across the next pair above. Papyrus let his eye lights flicker out, unresisting. What was the snake going to do? Was it really going to eat him? Why would Sans let this happen? Did Sans not want him back—? Something wet trailed from his eye socket down the side of his skull.  
  
The snake made a contented sound as its jaws closed on his collar bone. Perhaps it was happy to have managed his ribs. Papyrus didn’t move, his arms still splayed out on the snake’s coils. He shivered as he felt the snake’s teeth pass over his own jaw—they didn’t touch him, but he could feel their closeness, and the air inside the snake’s mouth was different, infused with its magic. It drew his shoulders in and his humeri were forced to reach up over his head, his shoulder blades pressing into its tongue. Deeper, and he could still feel the cold air outside only on his arms—they were trailing after him. The leash would have been worse, he supposed. Deeper, magic pressing around his skull, and the teeth rested against his radii and ulnae just short of his wrists. His left hand twitched. He would have held onto his collar, his only remaining connection to Sans, if he weren’t trapped in this position.  
  
The snake’s magic slid around him and his hands were surrounded too, nothing of him left in the outside world. He sobbed quietly. Why had Sans let this happen? It wasn’t his place to question it, but … Was he going to die? Was this what Sans wanted? What had he done to disappoint Sans so much? What if—what if this WASN’T what Sans wanted? Sans never told him what to expect when he— But what if the snake had broken their deal? What if Papyrus should have fought back? Sans would be furious that he let himself get killed like this. Could he have fought off the snake if he’d thought of it sooner? It looked similar to Sans, so it was probably formidable. But that didn’t matter—if his brother wanted him to do something, he did it. He had let Sans down, the ultimate betrayal—unless this was what Sans wanted after all, and he had no business questioning it. The uncertainty was tearing him apart.  
  
Inside the snake was not uncomfortable, other than the confined feeling of the soft walls of magic pressing so close from every direction. Something about it made Papyrus drowsy, but he fought it off, too panicked that letting the snake eat him might have been the wrong choice. If he gave in, he assumed he would never wake up. And he couldn’t die in here if Sans didn’t want him to. He squirmed, but he could barely move. He reached for his magic, but the snake’s magic was like a barrier. Perhaps he could summon an attack in the little space left between his own bones, he thought, but when he reached for it, it was as if the snake’s magic flooded in instead, sweeping his consciousness away in a dark torrent.  
  
***  
  
“Wake up!”  
  
Papyrus snapped awake instantly. It wasn’t unusual for Sans to be angry with him for dozing off. What was important was to determine what Sans wanted from him and comply as quickly as possible.  
  
Sans was leaning over him, irritated. Behind him were treetops shrouded in darkness. Were they out in the forest? Why had he fallen asleep here?  
  
“You haven’t even put on your clothes. And where’s your leash?”  
  
No wonder Sans was angry. Papyrus looked down at himself and saw he was naked except for his jacket draped over him. He felt at his collar, not finding the leash. He couldn’t imagine why he would have let it be removed. He looked around for the leash, and he saw the snake.  
  
Papyrus was sitting in the snow, leaning back against the snake’s thick purple tail. Its torso was resting in the snow a few steps away. It grinned at him. His clothes were neatly stacked on the snow next to it, the leash wound up on top.  
  
Sans saw it, too. He strode over and picked up the leash, brought it back and attached it to Papyrus’s collar. “Hurry up and get dressed, unless you want to walk home naked.”  
  
Papyrus got to his feet, regarding the snake with a shudder. He had just enough leeway to snag his clothes with his distal phalanges without pulling on the leash, and Sans didn’t see fit to give him any more. The snake watched in amusement.  
  
He couldn’t put his shirt back on over the leash, so he gave up and put on his jacket and the rest, stuffing the shirt into his pocket.  
  
“Finally.” Sans led him away from the snake. He didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine Blackberry and Snakeberry planning this and giggling about how Slim will think he's gonna die :3  
> So mean X3


End file.
